THE PRINCE OF EGYPT. It demands responsibility from parents

The 1998 animated film The Prince of Egypt by DreamWorks Animation begins in a striking and moving way. First, we see images of exhausted Hebrews: hauling enormous loads, denied even a drop of water to quench their thirst, whipped and driven on by Egyptians. It’s pure torture. Then the scene shifts beyond the city walls. Jochebed runs toward the riverbank, desperate to save her youngest child. Moses is still an infant, and his mother places him in a basket and sets him adrift on the river.

Of course, we already know whose hands he will end up in—this is one of the most deeply ingrained stories in Christian culture. The filmmakers make no attempt to reinterpret it. They follow the Old Testament faithfully, without even a hint of critical distance. Over time, the question arises as to how well this conventional approach really works. But more on that later.

After this somber prologue, the creators of The Prince of Egypt swiftly change tone. The story leaps forward several years. Ramesses and Moses race their chariots through the streets and onto the scaffolding surrounding a colossal statue of Pharaoh Seti under construction. The entire structure sways dangerously, and their duel seems to defy the laws of physics. It’s a brilliantly staged sequence—energetic and powerful. It works on multiple levels. On the surface, it conveys the emotional bond between Ramesses and Moses, built on rivalry and brotherly love.

On another, it gives the filmmakers a chance to express the architectural grandeur of ancient Egypt. We get to know the main characters not through dialogue but through action. The world we’re invited into feels convincing and immersive—a captivating, astonishing vision. Every frame reflects the tremendous work of the animators and the justification for every dollar of the large budget. The energy packed into the opening of The Prince of Egypt can only be compared to that of The Lion King. In both films, Hans Zimmer’s score plays a vital role.

After the first fifteen minutes, the filmmakers let us catch our breath and introduce the central dramatic threads: Moses discovering his true identity, his growing opposition to Ramesses and his adoptive father, and the conflict between the ruling Pharaoh and his son, the obvious heir to the throne. The film uses well-chosen metaphorical shots that allow the characters’ emotions to resonate more strongly.

One particularly memorable scene shows Pharaoh chastising his son for recklessness and youthful bravado. We observe their exchange in profile. Ramesses looks at his father, whose silhouette is doubled by the statue behind him. This lends the ruler genuine majesty and underscores how unprepared Ramesses is to inherit his power. The composition alone communicates far more than the dialogue does.

Moses’ dream is also woven seamlessly into the story. The nightmare depicts the massacre of infants—a fate Moses narrowly escaped. This sequence is especially striking because of its visual style: the animation mimics ancient Egyptian wall paintings, using intense, blood-red colors and a flat, two-dimensional composition. It’s no wonder Moses wakes up in shock. The scene leaves a deep impression on the viewer as well.

Unfortunately, when the protagonist decides to flee, The Prince of Egypt begins to unravel narratively. The stunning visuals are no longer enough, and the story loses momentum. What follows is a rushed, monotonous checklist of key episodes from Moses’ life: his love for Zipporah, his transformation from prince to shepherd, the burning bush. Even the plagues of Egypt and the crossing of the Red Sea are portrayed in a condensed, telegram-like fashion. It feels as though the biblical canon has started to constrain and stifle the directors, who seem forced to check every box from A to Z—regardless of the consequences. In the end, The Prince of Egypt leaves a mixed impression.

The plot races forward but frustrates with its superficiality; the creators take shortcuts, merely “ticking off” events. The dramatic weight and wonder of these moments are never fully conveyed. The human dimension fades as well. The breakdown of Moses’ friendship with Ramesses is pushed into the background. Moses becomes a pawn in God’s hands, obeying His commands without hesitation, which makes him emotionally distant as a dramatic character. In the final act, he’s more a vessel of meaning and symbolism than a true protagonist. I have no doubt that Ridley Scott, in his underrated Exodus: Gods and Kings, drew far more from this story—approaching the biblical text with greater awareness and nuance.

The creators of The Prince of Egypt devoted so much creative energy to the visuals that the story of Moses remains just as controversial. In the DreamWorks animation, it raises real doubts and suspicions—especially through its false, relative morality. The narrative shockingly frames two key events in very different moral terms: the Pharaoh’s massacre of infants is depicted as a horrific crime, whereas the final brutal plague is presented as justified and necessary. This contradiction cannot be ignored.

Paradoxically, this is a film aimed at children. But it demands responsibility from parents and thoughtful conversations afterward—so that their young viewers are not left with troubling questions.